THE GARLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3510, 21 June 1921, Page 56

THE GARLAND.

FOR THE QUIET HOUR. No. 4CB.

By

Duncan Wright,

KEEP ON SMILING. J ust a smile; It’s a simple little thing Is a smile, But ’twill joy and gladness bring Will a smile, Just a smile; Many hearts will dry their tears And go singing on the way, And they 11 put away their fears, Thinking of the glad to-day, By your smile, Glads cine smile. How heavy burdens fall, By a smile, Just a smile; Lonely lives arc cheered) each day, Duties lightened, hearts made glad, Heaven's beauty fills the way, If to kindly words you add Just a smile, Happy emilel —From Sunday at Herne. READ—THIS— PAGE— SLOWLY. Let princes learn to know my Christlet subjects attend upon Him; let parents take 1,0. d ot Him; let young men embrace Him; let rich and poor seek to be renestled by Him.--John Foxe, the marty**ologist. ca ir l ? t b - v an -V means fail.—John n lcklifte, Reformation Morning Star 11 we love God we shall seek Him,’ not Minn him.—John Calvin, the Reformation Treacher. , They are small devils that tempt with AUb J c ava^ lce ' higher spirits tempt with unbelief and despair and error.—Martin Luther, Monk who shook the world ihere will come a time when three words uttered in love shall receive a fairnore blessed reward than 3000 volumes vntten _ without Him.—Richard Hooker, Die Reformation Scholar. Art thou afraid to carry Christ’s Cross’ Wat thou come into His Kingdom and not drink of His cup?—John Bradford, tne TioJy Martyr. N.B.—Which of these six thoughts helps you most ? YOUNG WOMEN. Let me beg you young women to devote yourselves to some work for Christ and the good of your fellow creatures. However much you may then be left alone, your life will not be a lonely one. There should be no difficulty in finding a sphere for your usefulness. If you are anxious to do good no day will pass that does not present you with some golden opportunity. It is said that Mrs Jordan, the eminent actress, when at the height of her fame, was driving out one day, when she passed a noor woman singing in the street. The wretched condition of the singer, and the genuine look of misery on her face, touched tho heart of the actress. She directed her coachman to stop, and sent her footman to the beggar with a message for her to call at the lady s house. By the interview which followed Mrs Jordan ascertained that the street sinner was a widow with a starving family, and that they had just been ejected by the landlord from the room they had occupied, and had no shelter from the keen, wintry winds. Directing the sad widow to sit by the fire for a little season, Mrs Jordan donned the skirt of the widow’s tattered dress, her bonnet, and her shawl, and then made for the street to sing. Such strains had never before been heard in the highway. Little thought the admiring passers-by that she whose voice enchanted them was Die famous ballad singer. One after another, touched by the clear, sweet

strains, handed her some coppers. The windows of the houses she passed were thrown open, and silver was cast at her feet. I he occupants of carriages lingered | to listen, and not a few handed her gold, -ifter three-quarters of an hour thus spent she hastened homeward, returned the waiting widow her dingy attire, and rejoiced her heart by a heap of money. Such a case is a very exceptional one, and it illustrates the remark that if the heart be set on doing good an occasion can soon be found.—Sel. BISHOP MOULD’S “ACT OF FAITH.” I believe on the Name of the Son of God. Therefore I am in Him, having Redemption through His Blood and Life by His Spirit. And He is in me, and all fulness is in Him. To Him T belong by purchase, conquest, and self-surrender. Io me lie belongs for all my hourly n6erl. 'J here is no cloud between my Lord and me. 1 here is no difficulty, inward or out- | ward, which He is not able, ready, and j willing to meet in me to-day. The Lord is my Keeper.—Amen. THE MISSION OF THE FLOWERS. She was perhaps six years old, a darkj eyed little creature, with a certain wistful expression about her mouth which one could not easily forget (says Margaret Williamson). It was during the noon lunch that she happened across my path, and I should probably have hurried by without seeing her but for the fact that she was standing in the centre of the street, which position l later decided she had chosen with a purpose in mind. In one arm I carried a large bunch of asters, and by the brilliant colouring of these she had evidently been attracted. “Please, lady, give me a flower,” sounded the little voice. “Certainly,” I said. “Which will you choose?” And as she chose two of the very bright ones, I inquired about any possible flower-beds which she might have. Her reply I can hear yet. only now it seems to he uttered by many* childish voices, instead of by one only : “We ain’t got no yard at our house.” Tragedy of childhood ! Further inquiry developed that she lived in a near-by tenement district, a district which I knew well. There were no yards there, but in the windows of the tenements I have often seen milk-bottles hold ing gay blossoms. Evert sordid surroundings cannot crush Die love of the bright and beautiful in the human heart—at least not wholly. So it is for us to put brightness into dull lives by bringing to them God’s messengers—the flowers. WHAT DO WE PLANT? Some Big Answers to a Little Question. What do we plant when we plant the tree? We plant the ship that will cross tho sea, We plant the masts to carry the sails, We plant the plank to withstand the gales, The keel, the keelson, and beam, and knee— We plant the ship when we plant the tree. What do we plant when we plant the tree? Tie plant the houses in which wo dwell, Wo plant the rafters, the shingles, the floor, We plant the studding, the lath, the door, And many mi# parts that I can tell. What do we plant when we plant the tree? A thousand things that we daily see: Y. e plant tile spire that out-towers the crag, We plant the staff for cur country’s flag; plant the shade, from the hot sun free—- \\ e plant all these when we plant the tree, MAN AND BOY. I, strolling along at forty, He, holding me by the’ hand, As he prattled his childish questions Of the things lie would understand. I was thinking of years behind me”, And he of tho years ahead: “I wish I was grown up, father— An what do you wish?” he said, A dear strong face was before me, As it was in the time gone bv: I thought cf our strolls together ’ Underneath the old blue sky. I think I should like”—l answered In reply to his little talk—“To again be a boy for an hour, With my father cut for a walk!” THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN. The right to watch while others sleep, Ihe right o’er others’ woes to weep ’ The right to succour in distress. ’ The right when others curse to bless. The right to love when others scorn, The right to comfort all who mourn, The right to shed new joy to earth. The right to feel the soul’s high worth, The right to lead tho soul to God Along the path our Saviour trod; Such woman’s rights our God ’ will bless And crown her champion with success. PRAYER. Moses prays—the sea divides. Ex. 14: lt)-2zi. Asa prays —victorv is won. 2 Ch 14-11-14. ' • David prays—sin is forgiven. Tsalm 32: 5-7. Hezekiah prays—sickness is healed. 2 Kings 20 : 1-6. Elisha prays—life is restored. 2 Kiims 4: 33-35. Daniel prays—lions are calmed. Dan 6 : 10 22. Jonah prays—whale rescues him. Jonah Publican prays—God saves him. Luke 18: 10-14. C hurch prays—Holy Ghost comes. Acts IjGhriM prays—and we are kept. John LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT. In 1827 Bishop Heber published his hymns and John Keblo issued bis “Christian Year.’ This hymn has been a beacon of comfort to many. One does not need to he a Newman to feel its pathetic power. It is your own soul, child of sorrow. You have wandered far. The windows of home are long since out of sight, and the hill

is full of pitfalls for your feet. What was it drew you out there to the wilds ? Was it sorrow that made your fireside hateful in its loneliness to you? Or sin that crushed its way into your house, scattering the loved hearts with you there ? You managed your own life too. You took your chance out of God’s hand into your own, and there you are, knowing not where to turn. What are the world and its charms to you now, alone with your own soul remembering. “Lead Thou me on !” This is a strange man’s pleading. Some hymns are hysterical fever cries of the soul over a broken toy, but this is a strong man's cry out of a broken life—the Oxford scholar, well up the ladder of fame, accustomed to managing his own world of thought— the man of the world’s affairs, holding the threads of fortune in his hand, used to standing at the crossroads, but now at the road of the cross. Lead Thou me on! The little hall of fortune, the jigging and the laughter had held his heart: now the strong hands are held out in the dark, pleadingly, blindly, for the mystic presence of the world’s wild places to lead his heart to peace ! No longer where thou wilt, thou Peter, selfwilled as long ago, hut girded by other hands, and imided sometimes whither thou wouldst not ! Put out the witnesses against me, O Christ. My own heart holds up its condemning fingers. “Remember not past years!”